


in the language of flowers

by orphan_account



Series: hamilton drabbles [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Is a Little Shit, Anger, Flowers, Gen, Hate/Hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:03:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the clouds swirl and change shape, spilling into fire and birds and all sorts of different creatures that jefferson knows are not real but thinks he has seen before.a jefferson-themed drabble on flowers





	in the language of flowers

jefferson dresses in his warmest magenta overcoat and goes to the garden.

in the middle of the summer the flowers bloom brightest, they are warm and happy and thomas wonders why he could like something as happy as this when he is the biggest fuck-up he knows (other than alexander hamilton, sometimes, but that is just because of the reynolds pamphlet). 

_no._

thomas pushes the negative thoughts to the back of his mind and gently picks one of the brightest flowers ─ it's bright and blue and stands out the most of all. 

he lies back and looks up at the sky. it is rather relaxing. 

the clouds swirl and change shape, spilling into fire and birds and all sorts of different creatures that jefferson knows are not real but thinks he has seen before.

footsteps snapping against grass bring him out of his reverie ─ thomas looks up and sees hamilton, that thrice-damned  _hamilton_ whom he hates so much, and he sits up with a glare of what can only be described as anger-fueled fondness. 

"hello, jefferson." hamilton says pleasantly. there is a cruel sneer to his voice that is only an undertone. thomas tries to ignore it. "crushed any more bugs today?"

it's a metaphor, an obvious one designed for provocation, so thomas ignores it. 

quietly responds. 

"in the language of the flowers, i am the one that says, 'fuck you'."

he walks away and tries to ignore the burn of anger that hamilton smears in the air.


End file.
